


Revelations.

by Axionic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (technically not shippy but interpret it however u want), Angst, Gen, Tristan Loves Angst Too Much 2k19, big sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 01:23:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17540036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axionic/pseuds/Axionic
Summary: “Look at yourself. This isn’t the you that you want to be. You once told me if we don’t do something we’d need more flags, and that was you talking about the Rome incident… Before you killed Antonio.”“You’re taking my words out of context.”“I did something to help people, Gabe. I am fighting Talon so that more people get to live to see another day. Don’t you want that anymore? Don’t you want to make a difference?”---A Reaper and Soldier: 76 interaction I thought of. Post-Recall. Gabriel becoming Reaper honestly baffled me because of the stark contrast that seems to be between Gabe and Reaper, so I took it upon myself to create a revelation that maybe Reaper is in the wrong for once.





	Revelations.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise in advance if the writing seems a bit scattered -- I wrote this over a couple of days after considering that Gabriel and Reaper are almost two completely different people and Blizzard doesn't have a valid explanation for that yet.
> 
> (Feel free to interpret this as Reaper76 or not. It's incredibly vague in how they feel for each other because I like being vague.)
> 
> More notes at the end!

It is a beautiful tragedy, he finds.

Snow falls gracefully around him, creating a powdered layer on the ground and seeping into his outfit, icy daggers trying to force a noise out of him. They hardly melt against his skin, and he doesn't answer the snow's calling, instead standing valiant against the weather; it wasn't always this way. He knows it hasn’t always been this way.

He remembers a time where the snow was instead a welcome surprise. He remembers when he shivered at snow falling on his face, the icy touch of winter countering the ever-glowing warmth of his skin but as welcome as the beams of the radiant sun. He remembers the snowball fights that ensued, two young super soldiers pelting snowballs at their crusader friend  --  and the inevitably large snowball that came their way as they run to cover, their grins bright and moods brighter. He remembers... Well, he remembers watching his friend's face in a certain awe; blue eyes alight with enthusiasm and excitement, blond hair dishevelled and once-present warpaint coming off with the snow melting on his face, zeal evident as he embraces the snow. A face of such youth in a war torn environment was rare, almost something unexpected  --  most enter young, die young. He was young too, but Morrison? He was younger. It was a miracle he didn't die.

He remembers thinking that not long before Ana threw a snowball directly at his face, prompting him to throw one back at her sniper post. (It wasn’t a direct hit. However, the snowball against the wall made its way into her coat, which prompted laughter and another snowball thrown at him.)

It's one of only a few positive memories, but he can't help but feel as though they outweigh any other memories he has.

He walks through the powdery snow to the fallen soldier. Eyes focused on the other's ongoing struggle  --  how he struggles to breathe, to stand, to even crawl away from the looming figure. He wasn't always so helpless, he reminds himself; once, he was as capable as himself. It was why the UN decided to make him the Strike Commander, after all, and why he was never given the position.

Bitterness bubbles inside of him like a poison, a scowl behind his mask. Contrary to belief, he isn't bitter about Morrison's success  --  Overwatch needed a strong, capable leader with a people's view on the world and a "get it done with little collateral" mindset. That didn’t fit Reyes. He always knew his position would be temporary, skillset only useful for carrying the team through the war, ruthless and calculating enough to outmanoeuvre the enemy. Morrison's promotion fit the criteria for an Overwatch that would protect the world and avoid collateral.

Good at leading, but better as a lone wolf. He knows what he is.

But he is bitter that Overwatch never did enough to help those in need around the world, when they needed help and needed them to be there. He is bitter that nobody was bold enough to speak up about it and prove to the governments what needed to be done. All he wanted was a safer world.

He slams a boot on Morrison's chest. Stares down at him with disdain as the old soldier below heaves a wavering breath. Aims his shotgun.

"Any last words?"

Silence.

Reaper laughs a dark, low chuckle. He kneels, staring directly into Morrison's eyes behind his visor, before he reaches forward with clawed gloves. Steel claws dig into the seams, grasping and tugging slightly  --  he violently pulls back and takes the metal plating with it.

He focuses on Morrison's scars. The wrinkles in his face. The saddened look in his eyes.

There's a sense of guilt at the reveal. He scowls at his own remorse yet finds himself subconsciously running his claws down the scars, curious and intrigued; frustrated above all. He is inclined to dig into the skin, reopen the wounds that must've been from the Swiss HQ incident, but he doesn't. Instead, he yanks his hand away. He has to tear his eyes away from Morrison so he stops himself regretting this decision, this memory he's about to forge for himself. A success among failures.

"What are you waiting for, Reyes?"

He scowls.

"Your last words."

"And this? Now?" Morrison holds back a frown. Reyes notices. "Why did you take my visor off?"

"To see your face, knowing that all you have done will have been for nothing."

He lifts himself up, re-aiming the shotgun at the old soldier's face, growl rising in his chest, his throat. He knows this tactic. Morrison used it often to make people step down from their initial goal  --  ever the pacifist when he could be. Careless and reckless was never his style.

"What would that be, Gabe?" The soldier lifts himself off the ground, enough to sit up. Reyes doesn't move. "I have dismantled Talon forces across the globe."

"And each time, Talon has rebuilt themselves."

Morrison furrows his eyebrows. It's the look he gives when he's trying to think of a counter.

"It won't be long until someone else takes my place. The war goes on. You know that."

"The war is over as soon as you're dead." Reaper growls. "And considering the situation now, you know that's how it's going to end. _Your_ death, _my_ victory."

Silence again.

Reaper watches the soldier struggle to lift himself further  --  he thinks, for a brief moment, about the contrast between now and years ago, when he was still young and youthful, full of energy and zeal. The Morrison he knew was a lovable idiot sometimes; never took himself seriously but took his role seriously as the moral support. There’s always been a stark contrast between Morrison off and on the field  --  but there was one defining trait that carried through no matter what.

Jack cared deeply. Too much sometimes, now that Reaper thinks about it. He was always looking out for the team on the field, always providing food and drink when he can, and always taking blows for the others because he heals faster than them. Off the field, it showed in the way he’d have their things organized, or when he’d talk to them and check up on their health. He might’ve liked having coffee and energy drink mixed together for the long nights and the tough days, but he tried to help everyone else before himself. And that is why he fails:

He had put everyone before himself. This is the end of the line.

Reaper leans down.

“You haven’t changed, Morrison.”

“Is that so, Reyes?”

“You were reckless, but never this reckless, Jack. Stupid mistakes, tiny miscalculations. You’re getting old and slowing down  --  but you keep putting others before yourself.” He smirks behind the mask. It feels like they’re playing chess; as though he is making the final moves that will secure his victory over the other. “Perhaps some things never change.”

“Old habits die hard.” Morrison has the smug look on his face. It’s enough to give Reaper pause. “But I know you, Gabe, and I know that this isn’t who you are.”

“You know _nothing_.”

“I know plenty, Gabriel. We spent over 30 years as friends, you think that means nothing now?”

“Yes, it does mean nothing. Unlike you, I have changed.”

Reaper flinches and drops his shotgun when he feels a hand grasp his chest, pulling him closer to Soldier. He can see a burning determination in the other’s eyes, and he doesn’t like it. He’s losing his edge.

He could kill him now. All it would take is his shotgun to the other’s head and pulling the trigger. It only needs him to move, pick up his shotgun again, and vaguely aim. He wants it to end. He doesn’t care about what Morrison has to say now. He needs to end this and secure his victory before Morrison outmanoeuvres him. He must reach—

_Reach—!_

Morrison tugs him closer.

“I know the real you. The one that cares. The one that knows that the world needs saving from Talon and its allies but is too stubborn to admit that he’s made a mistake. Dammit, Reyes, you know that Talon took us down from the inside out and they’re stirring up another war!” Morrison persists. He thinks Reyes doesn’t notice his other hand reaching up. Yet… “I don’t want to kill you, Gabe. You were my friend long before you were my enemy.”

Reaper snarls.

“I have made my decision.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Gabe. You can walk away from it. Just like you could anything else.”

“What makes you think I _want_ to walk away? What makes you think I should?”

“Because the Gabriel I know would **despise** the thing he’s become now.” Jack moves fast, and Reyes has no time to react  --  the mask comes off, and what remains is his hooded face, shielded from the snow. The scars he had are lost beyond half-missing flesh, a chunk of his cheek missing and smoke starting to pour out of it, trying to repair itself. His eyes are a piercing red; danger, intimidation. Jack doesn’t flinch. “Look at yourself. This isn’t the you that you want to be. You once told me if we don’t do something we’d need more flags, and that was you talking about the Rome incident… Before you killed Antonio.”

“You’re taking my words out of context.”

“I did something to help people, Gabe. I am fighting Talon so that more people get to live to see another day. Don’t you want that anymore? Don’t you want to make a difference?”

Reaper freezes. He… He realises that he is at a loss for words.

He hates that Morrison is right. He still wants to make a difference. And, perhaps he’s trying to make the point that means he shouldn’t be working for Talon. After all, it was them that took Amelie and turned her into a weapon against her own husband, who he cared for deeply; and it was them he fought against in Rialto with his Blackwatch team. The team that was scrutinised because he couldn’t avoid an itchy trigger finger and they copped the worst of it.

It makes him wonder how they are doing. Jesse particularly; he cared for that damned cowboy like a son, and sometimes even treated him as much. He wondered if there was some sort of resent aimed towards him because he switched sides and didn’t think about how it might affect Jesse.

And Genji… Ah, Genji, that kid. He’d been through hell and back, and he was rebuilt by Angela in exchange for him being in Overwatch. Well… He ended up in Blackwatch, but it was a better fit for him and he knew it. A ninja, raised in the Shimada clan, with strong ties to the underground which gave him the skills required for a stealth agent  --  he wonders how Genji is holding up after the collapse of Overwatch; he may have left just before it did, but--

He… Cares.

Dammit, he doesn’t _want_ to care.

He put them through hell in those last few years before Overwatch collapsed, and it’s only now that he’s really recognising his mistake in doing so. And his choice to be with Talon… At first, he was bitter and was going to tear them apart from the inside out. Now he’s their top agent and willing to kill old Overwatch agents just to stop them from returning to protect the world from Talon.

He struggles to find the words to respond to Morrison with. He just… Stutters.

Morrison knows.

“You’re killing agents of Overwatch just because. It’s a difference, but it’s not the difference you wanted to make, years ago. You wanted to protect Overwatch and Blackwatch agents alike and I know you did because you wouldn’t have gone after Antonio if you didn’t. Gabe, I know that this isn’t you.”

“Shut up.”

“Come join me, as a vigilante.”

“ _Shut up_.”

“We can make a difference together, and we don’t have to follow the government’s rules. We can save lives and take others. Ana would be glad to—”

“ ** _Shut up!_** ”

Reaper shoves him away and reaches for his shotgun.

“You can’t tell me what to do, Morrison. We can never go back to the old days where we could sit around and joke with each other, we’re not who we were then, and we never will be.”

“Yet you know I’m right. You know because you always told me to shut up whenever I proved you wrong. Remember?” Morrison gives a soft smile. “’Oh, shut up, Morrison.’ ‘Shut it, Jackie.’ ‘Jack, I get that you’re right, but seriously shut up.’ It happened less as the years went by, but that was how I knew you were listening, and I was right.”

His voice dies in his throat. His match of chess against Morrison is an extreme loss, because he wasn’t paying enough attention to his moves and what he was planning to do and now he’s in a checkmate. Despite how much he’s changed, he’s still himself.

And he hates that Morrison has used it to his full advantage.

“Go on. I’ve proven my point to you, Gabriel.” Morrison stares at Reyes, almost defiantly. “Kill me.”

“… No.” Reaper finds it weird that he’s saying no. He lowers his shotgun. “I won’t.”

“And _now_ you won’t kill me? Why?”

“Because… You’re not worth it anymore.” Gabriel throws the shotgun aside, scowl evident on his face, growl stifled in his throat as though he was holding it back. He reaches for his mask and slowly puts it back on, hiding his face, hiding what he has become to his former friends. They don't have to gawk at his face forever. It makes him uneasy, restless. “Why would I kill you when I could make you suffer? I could kill everyone you ever cared for and make you watch.”

The words are hollow. He doesn’t understand why they’re hollow when he would’ve meant it not even a few minutes ago, when he was hellbent on ending the soldier’s life.

“Guess we’ll see, huh?”

And still, Jack persists. Gabriel feels the defeat in his very being, and he hates that he does. He wishes he had a wittier comeback to Jack's defiance.

Instead, he vanishes into thin air. A cloud of black smoke, with a whisper in the wind to the battered soldier.

“Sooner than you’re hoping for, Morrison.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I honestly think Gabriel should've been a vigilante much like Jack and this is why:
> 
> 1\. He cares about people. It's obvious that he does because he basically gets revenge for the Rome incident and Gerard's hospitalisation, as well as the many lives lost in the direct attack.
> 
> 2\. He doesn't abide by the rules. This is also obvious because he runs Blackwatch and, in the Retribution comic, he literally states he doesn't follow the rules set by the government. He's a man that gets the job done -- a means to an end.
> 
> 3\. The only reason I can see him being as angry as he is in-game is because a) he can't die, and b) Overwatch didn't do enough to protect the people of the world. He literally talked Jack into letting him go on an unsanctioned mission to retrieve Antonio, and he was basically done with Overwatch when Uprising happened; in which it was then Tracer that persuaded Jack.
> 
> Is there a viable explanation as to why he's been hunting down former Overwatch agents? No.
> 
> But with canon as it is, I firmly believe Gabe deserves a redemption arc and it's because while he could make a good villain in concept, his backstory given to us just doesn't give a villainous feel. He's like a big cuddly jokester teddy bear with some serious sewing and costume talent.
> 
> These notes are sort of a backstory to this piece. There might be a part two in the future.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
